There’s bound to be dickering. It’s Shakespeare after all. And not just any play in the Bard’s 38, but “Hamlet.”

* * * ½ Shakespeare

Quoted or misquoted, grasped or fumbled, the tale of the Danish prince reckoning with his father’s demanding ghost and pondering revenge on his father’s murderer is arguably the Big Kahuna of Drama.

Directed by Denver Center’s Kent Thompson, this “Hamlet” — at the Stage Theatre through Feb. 23 — is a sparely handsome, brooding production. It revels but not ostentatiously in the language as it reveals filial and philosophical quandaries about political corruption, ethical leadership and moral action.

Thompson doesn’t aim for a definitive production but one that stirs meaningful discomfort.

Ghosts, of course, do that. And the dead King’s unhappy one (John Hutton) is first spied by officers Marcellus (Douglas Harmsen) and Barnardo (Jeffrey Roark) before Hamlet’s friend Horatio (Shawn Fagan) confirms his identity.

When Hamlet confronts the apparition, the spirit is silent then sonorous then exacting in his demands for vengeance.

Denver Center newcomer Aubrey Deeker portrays the vexed prince. When we see him first, he is sitting pushed away from the banquet table of his stepfather Claudius and mother Gertrude, arms crossed. It’s a posture not of melancholy so much as a pose of sullen defiance.

Deeker’s Hamlet’s got intelligence to spare. He’s also too enamored of his father’s memory. It’s nice to have a Hamlet more smitten with Dad than one too beset with Oedipal desires for Mom.

Setting the action prior to the start of World War I gives costume designer Elizabeth Novak some vivid martial options that speak of an anxious era but aren’t entirely shackled to it.

As Claudius, Peter Simon Hilton does unscrupulous well. At times Claudius seems to have conned himself enough to not seem the least vexed by his murderous deed. Hilton’s ease makes for a rich come-to-Jesus moment, with him kneeling to pray and Hamlet poised for murder.

Kathleen McCall doesn’t play Gertrude for showiness but instead cocoons herself in wifely and motherly denial.

Amelia Pedlow’s Ophelia, on the other hand, we root for despite our foreknowledge. Her banter with brother Laertes (Jacob B. Knoll) or father Polonius (the charmingly nimble Sam Gregory) displays a countenance that under less tragic circumstance might be a good match for the prince. Her descent into madness is the most moving and truest things in the play.

But then “Hamlet” is an intellectual more than emotional outing. Not least because it has a ruminator at its center. Mind you, this is not a complaint. We humans are long overdue for a post-doc- level course in Corruption Studies.

A concerned caller phoned the other day to tick off the missteps of this production. (We made a plan to disagree further.) You should know, I’ve overheard plenty more praise than derision for this production.

Still, this is the lovely cost of taking on “Hamlet.” The knives are drawn. You’d better hope you’re not Polonius hiding behind a curtain in Gertrude’s chambers.